


The Walls Are Walking

by gladiatorAviator



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7481607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladiatorAviator/pseuds/gladiatorAviator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That kid is like a statue. He freezes up so easily.”</p><p>“Yeah it's crazy. Have you ever watched him when he zones out? It's freaky how little he moves.”</p><p>He was just the strange kid with the marble white skin and unnervingly piercing blue eyes. That's what they say behind his back. That he could be carved out of stone, what with how easily he blends in with the wall, how quiet and still he is, how he seemed to barely even breathe at times. </p><p>They don't know how right they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Walls Are Walking

“That kid is like a statue. He freezes up so easily.”

“Yeah it's crazy. Have you ever watched him when he zones out? It's freaky how little he moves.”

Armin hissed a quiet breath between his teeth. Of course they were talking about him. It wasn't hard to tell, after all. No one besides Eren and Mikasa really paid much mind to him. 

He was just the strange kid with the marble white skin and unnervingly piercing blue eyes. That's what they say behind his back. That he could be carved out of stone, what with how easily he blends in with the wall, how quiet and still he is, how he seemed to barely even breathe at times. 

They don't know how right they are.

“Oi mate, it's right strange, he is. I’ve always wondered what’d happen if I jus’ hit him across the back when he zones. Maybe knock some sense into ‘im, you see.”

Armin flinched, limbs cracking as he did so. The voices were incredibly close, much closer than he anticipated. It was too late to run, and he wasn't sure if the group would end up turning his way. About a fifty fifty chance, he reckoned. Armin closed his eyes, slowing his breaths. 

A thrum, below his heart. Armin focused on it, the world becoming bright and colorful beneath his eyelids. Grey, beneath his feet. Shale, too small and unstable. A tarnished red behind him. Granite, perhaps? But no, this strain was unfamiliar to him. Best not to chance it. Off white in front of him. Limestone. An incredibly pure block of it. 

Armin smiled, opening his eyes and quickly springing across the alleyway to the stone. He put his hand up to the stone, feeling the ridges and valleys it contained. He closed his eyes again, putting his other hand to the wall and pressing gently. The white of the limestone was blinding, pulsing in time with his slowing breaths. The thrum spread through him, a low hum behind his ears and drumming his solar plexus. 

The stone began to yield beneath his touch. Armin could hear the voices approaching, far too close for comfort. _Come on,_ he begged with the stone. _Please, let me in._

Armin's hands suddenly _sank_ into the stone. His stomach lurched, as it was want to do before he found his footing. Armin opened his eyes, grinning as he felt the limestone accept him into its depths, the stone beginning to run up his arms, the texture rough and sandy. A wave of impressions washed over him as he walked into the stone, the outside world darkening. 

Southeast of Rose. Hundreds of thousands of shells submerged underwater, the water slowly draining as earth rose. A sharp pain, then light. Workers shouting at each other as stone was separated and transported. A steady proudness. Support. Beauty. 

Armin smiled in the stone’s depths. Every strain of limestone he had become always had a different story. Maybe he'd be able to find two of the same vein someday, but, considering his current track record, it seemed unlikely. Besides, melding with limestone made his skin more flaky and his words more rough than he liked. Now pure marble, _that_ was an exceptional stone to meld with. It left him feeling magnificent, infused with bravery and a strong, unwavering voice. Marble was courage at its finest. Beautiful, fantastic marble. 

_Daydreaming about marble again, you absolute fool,_ Armin thought, grimacing. _You know there's none around here, and even if there was, you can't meld with it all day every day. People would start to notice the skin marbling too, like the last time..._ Armin grumbled. He could feel the limestone becoming indignant, as if jealous of the fact that it could have been marble had the conditions been right. 

_Sorry,_ Armin directed the thought to the stone. The stone seemed to grumble in reply, but relaxed as it did so. Armin shifted, his limestone skin brushing the outside world again, the sunlight hitting it and warming him. He hesitated on the edge, taking mind that his body didn’t bulge outside the wall. He let his consciousness fill the stone he was in, quickly checking around the building to make sure he could walk out without anyone noticing. 

Flashes of light assailed him, dizzying him. He nearly stepped out of his safe space, disoriented as the different images of what the limestone could see swirled about him. The eastern thoroughfare, clear, a group of people walking away from the building. North, wall facing Sina, a family walking by leading a team of oxen laden with a cart of wheat. People talking inside, the conversation too garbled for Armin to make out anything. South, blackness where the limestone was sewed up next to a different strain, pushing and pulling on it. Cold as the limestone buried itself in the earth, a basement full of crates. 

Armin shook his head, dispelling the images before he could lose himself. He briefly remembered the first time he tried spreading his consciousness; he had melded with a particularly dense strain of exposed slate, a monolith of a structure. It pressed heavy on him, wanting nothing but to be rid of the parasite that had buried himself inside it. He had tried to speak to it, to calm it and let him experience what it saw. In response, the slate had assaulted him with images from all directions; wind howling and biting at its west side, the buried strain that stretched for kilometers below him and the bitter cold it experienced, the vibrations of the stresses and strains it could feel that rattled it ferociously. Armin had been forcefully ejected seconds later, collapsing to the ground and retching, nauseated and extremely disoriented. 

He didn’t meld for a month after that, passing by even those wonderful marble structures in Sina.

Armin grinned. It had taken some time to be able to control what the stone showed him, but even then it wasn’t always perfect. Every strain of slate had given him trouble, and shale never seemed to let him stay in it longer than a few minutes, too unstable to support him. Sandstone hadn’t given him much trouble, though it never really seemed to give him much information either. Granite was generally a toss-up, based on the impurities it possessed. Marble, though, had never given him any trouble, almost welcoming him into its depths every time he melded with it. _God,_ marble was fantastic to meld with.

The limestone shifted around him, and Armin got the impression that it was getting impatient. Armin turned his attention back to the outside world, the sun still warming him, the street he was currently facing empty and quiet. _Thank you,_ Armin directed to the stone, the stone relaxing in reply. One last check, then Armin stepped out, his limestone skin flaking off and returning to flesh. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs for the first time in minutes. There was no need to breathe when he was melded with something, though the longer he stayed the more he started to lose himself. 

He had tested it once, and had ended up staying melded to a slab of marble for almost a full 48 hours. It was only after he had noticed Eren and Mikasa running up and down the streets yelling for him, Eren’s voice ragged and Mikasa limping behind him that he had realized he was losing himself. Leaving the slab had left him unconscious, his body nearly forgetting how to breathe, wave after wave of nausea overwhelming him before he had passed out. His skin had been a ghastly looking white for a week after, an unnatural marbling covering it. He had passed it as just his veins, but Eren’s pursed lips had let him know that he knew it wasn’t the full truth.

Armin sighed, slumping against the stone he had just walked out of. The wind brushed by him, scattering the dust that was still on his shoulders, gathering it away from his feet, dispelling any evidence of his heretic nature. He closed his eyes, focusing on regaining his breath and washing away the lingering dizziness. Color creeped in behind his eyes, the thrum returning to his chest, the limestone behind him whispering to rejoin it, the granite across washing a feeling of envy towards him, gently tugging at his stomach to meld with it instead. 

Hurried footsteps broke the spell, Armin’s eyes opening in a flash. A Wallist priest rushed by, holding one of their holy books and shouting for repentance. What little townspeople remained in the streets scattered, not wanting to involve themselves in what would end up turning into an hour long religious lecture. Armin grinned. If only they knew it should be people like him they should worship, not some stationary walls that could hardly think for themselves. Stonewalkers like him were the reason why the Walls were still holding up. 

Unfortunate that the Wallist thought differently, putting to death any Stonewalker they happened upon. Quiet lynchings in the dark, the military police giving a blind eye to the murders, all cases stated as missing, unsolved, or mysterious disappearances. It was no wonder that Wall Maria fell when enough of Armin’s kind had been killed, the rest scared into hiding for humanity’s sake. They were declared heretics by the domineering religion, transformed into unfeeling monsters that would stop at nothing to destroy every segment of stone that existed -- Walls or otherwise -- opening the already wide rift that existed between humanity and the Stonewalkers. 

The first few deaths were a surprise, then surprisingly commonplace. Even still, people whispered about the evils of the Stonewalkers, entirely untrue folktales about them breaking out of stone and the building collapsing behind them, burying the hapless families, them appearing in royalty’s rooms, intent to murder and enslave what little remained of humanity, them walking out of the Walls after weakening their support, dooming humanity to the terrors outside. 

Armin wrinkled his nose. His grandfather, before he died, had tried to clear the name, telling Armin stories about how they lived to protect, how they were the bridge between the Walls and humanity, how they actually acted and how the Wallist twisted their words until they had their scapegoat monsters. All of this and more after he had found Armin sticking his hand into the wall, entranced by his abilities.

“Armin!”

Armin shook his head, pushing himself off the stone, his feet wavering as he found his balance, turning his head to find the voice. Mikasa was running towards him, waving. Armin waved back at her, making his way towards her. 

She looked pale, her steps not as sure as they usually were. She all but fell over as she stopped by him, her eyes wide and scared.

“Mikasa, what’s wrong?” Armin asked, supporting her and leading her to sit down on the side of the road.

“Eren told me to find you,” she said, catching her breath. “He said that maybe you could understand what was going on with me.”

“What’s wrong?” he said slowly. _Eren’s training to be a surgeon. Wouldn’t he know better?_

Mikasa sat quietly for a moment. “I keep seeing things,” she said quietly. “I close my eyes and I can still see color. They’re distinct, like I haven’t closed my eyes at all. Eren doesn’t know what it is; it’s not anything like he’s studied.” She shifted against Armin. “He said that maybe you would know.”

Armin stiffened. _So he did know, all this time._ “If you close your eyes, do you feel something... hum, in your chest?” he asked quietly. 

Mikasa closed her eyes, tightening her grip on her scarf. She sat still for a moment, then nodded, opening her eyes.

Excitement bubbled in Armin’s chest. _Perhaps we’re not a doomed race after all. People are changing, maybe we have a chance._ Armin stood up, offering her a hand. “I know what it is. You’ve got nothing to fear.” 

Mikasa took his hand, bewildered.

Armin smiled gently at her. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not end up adding to this later, but I'm gonna keep it as a oneshot for now. 
> 
> ETA: will most likely be continued. Plot decided to take form and I'm nearly ready to take it on. Expect more in the fall


End file.
